savage grief

I'm still struggling with depression, and with suicidal thoughts, but I had and evaluation today to see if I would be a good candidate for Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation; I would, just have to get insurance approval. And I continue to rake through the archaeological records of my heart breaks trying to find the treasure that will release the curse of this savage grief.

Today's discovery is the loss of the ranch. When I was 13 we lost the ranch, and I lost my way. Up until that point I had never thought about doing anything other than taking over the ranch. It was the blood of my blood; it was as much a part of me as my hands. Losing the ranch was losing my safety net, my future...my life as I knew it. Interestingly enough, it was around the time that we lost the ranch that I started obsession about suicide.

Long story short, my dad was able to sublet the ranch a few years later and I wound up returning to the ranch with my dad my senior year. That year his brother died and set up a trust that left a home for my dad to stay in in Dickinson, so we spent most of our time there, but the ranch buildings continued to be ours to stay in.

When my dad was pretty sure he was going to die he offered to try to get the ranch back for me. I said no. Not because I didn't want it, but because I really had no idea how to run it on my own...I wasn't like my dad...I didn't know how to pull a calf, I didn't know how to pull an engine out of a tractor and take it apart, I didn't know how much seed to buy for the crops. There was no way I could do it alone. I hated saying no because it was my greatest desire to have the ranch, but I knew I would fail without his wisdom to guide me. And I hated having to say no to him because I knew how much it hurt him that the ranch that his parents and he had worked so hard on was no longer in the family.

Saying no felt like a betrayal to the land, to my father, and to myself. It still breaks my heart, and I still carry the guilt that I wasn't smart enough, and strong enough to take it on. And when my dad died, the chance of ever getting the ranch back died with him. All of the wisdom, skill, knowledge that he had accumulated over the years was gone. All the stories of his growing up in the depression was gone. Stories of his mother; my beloved grandmother were gone. Him constantly giving me shit about being a grump-ass were gone.

Even the home we shared in Dickinson was gone...I was left dangling for the wolves with a storage until full of "stuff", and no direction or purpose. At least when my father was alive those last few months I had the role of care-taker to give me purpose...with him gone, I had nothing, but grief and the belief that since I had cried at his funeral I no longer was supposed to have any feelings...I just needed to carry on and be "fine."

What if tomorrow is better? (TW: Suicidality)

In junior high there was a day that it occurred to me that suicide was a way out. Like a legit way out. Once that thought hit me, it became a daily thought, an obsession. The only thing was I was terrified of death. But thoughts of suicide soothed me. It was my one of my primary coping skills, a way to distract from the things that I had little to no internal or external resources to deal with. The fantasies never went further than fantasies, and obsessively drawing/doodling guns pointed at the viewer and nooses.

Fast forwarding to my junior year of high school. My parents had separated, and my mother had (for her safety) moved out of state. During our second-state move it became increasingly difficult for me to manage my distress. Not only did I lose the few friends that I had had, I lost my routine, our animals, but I also had to deal with my mother's mental health issues by myself; the in-bed depressions, the pill overdoses (always accompanied by the warning, "don't call anyone or the social workers will take you away." resulting in all night vigils watching to make sure my mother never stopped breathing.

As the weight of my anxiety, depression, isolation, and PTSD crushed me more and more each day, the fantasies turned into a plan. Each night after school I would walk around the neighborhood so I could find a rope, and a place to hang myself where no one would find me in time to save me. After weeks of unsuccessful searching I surrendered to the fact that I might have to do something other than hang myself, and I was okay with that.

I was in the final stages of planning, I wanted to make sure what ever I did was sufficient to do the job. I figured I had a couple days to work out the final details, and then in a dream I felt what I call the presence of a god. I won't surmise which one (at the time I would have claimed Christianity, but these days I'm a poly-pantheonic pagan), I was not shown a face or told any information; I was just blessed with a sense of peace, and sense that if I took my life I would feel just as isolated in the after world. It was enough, it shifted my thoughts just enough to get through that period of hopelessness and desperation.

The fantasies and thought didn't stop though. They got more manageable, at least for awhile, but they didn't go away. By the next year the darkness started to overtake me again and it became harder to hold on, but I kept thinking of that dream and it would give me a little bit of hope that maybe I would feel that peace again some day.

Three years later I would find myself at a crossroads again. My dad had died after I'd taken care of him alone with no support from my family for a year. With his death came the loss of the anchor to the family ranch that up until I was 13 I had always thought I would take over. And the loss of the family stories I would never get to hear; his brothers had already died, and his sisters had disowned the family. My mother was in an abusive relationship that had me wondering/worrying daily when he was going to finally kill her. And, I had yet another experience of losing my personal power, but that's a story for another day.

I tried during the early winter months to shove the unidentified emotions that I just couldn't be present with in to a box and bury them. In late December when my roommates were away, and as the snow blanked the city on a quiet, peaceful night those emotions tore me open and dropped me to my knees. I took my dad's .357 revolver out of my gun cabinet and crawled under the table. Sobbing, drowning in the pain of countless hurts, and blinded by hopelessness and isolation I put the loaded gun to my temple, ready for it all to be over, not even thinking about the scene of horror I would leave for my roommates. But a whispered thought interrupted me, "What if tomorrow is better." And I paused, I had my "semicolon" moment, and I ALLOWED myself to have my "semicolon" moment...I didn't have to go through with it today. I lowered the gun and carefully un-cocked it, fearing I might slip a put a bullet through the wall.

Unable to be alone in the apartment any longer I bundled up and walked for hours along the virgin snow covered sidewalks, no sound but the crunching of snow under my feet. My feet carried me to the house of the chaplain who had worked with me and my father at the hospital. I never told her that I had put a gun to my head that night, just that I was having a hard time. It wasn't much, but it was the most I had ever let my myself be vulnerable.

"What if tomorrow is better" has become my mantra. It has gotten me through many difficult times. It has been my life rope, my candle in the darkness, my spark of hope. Eventually I wound up in therapy and an alcohol-recovery program, and slowly added tools to my tool-box. I learned to surround myself with people I know have my back and love me (and I have allowed myself to love others fiercely). In the darkest of nights it is "What if tomorrow is better", and the Love of my beloveds that pulls me through. And yes, even with 20 some years of therapy and recovery, I still think about suicide, and sometimes I still go to the deepest depths of despair; that is just the way my brain is wired. There are passing thoughts that flit through my head almost daily, most days they come and go without me paying them much mind. Some days, they are a little louder, and I have to actively chase them away. Some days, I am actively thinking about suicide, and these are the dangerous days where I need to have a little backup...I have to be honest with my therapist and my wife, make sure I don't spend too much time alone, etc, because these are the days that a little bit of tunnel vision could get me into trouble.

I don't write about this because I need attention or affirmation. I write about it because if we can smash the stigma around suicidality, maybe more people who struggle with it will be willing to reach out and get the help that works for them. Maybe by writing about it support people will educate themselves on the best way to help there loved ones (hint: minimizing or trying to say shit ain't so bad is NOT helpful).

Some of the things that I've learned over the years that help me...gratitude lists, writing, exercise, therapy (CBT to deal with the suicidal thoughts, EMDR and Parts Work to deal with the root trauma was my path), baths, chocolate/cheese/potatoes (harm reduction, baby), when things get REALLY bad having my wife hide things that I might use, do art, call a friend and see how they're doing, volunteer (gets me thinking about others instead of lost in the dark alley of my thoughts, cute animal videos, spiritual pursuits, thinking it through; remembering how many people would be hurt if I took my life.

And remember: It's brave AF to go to therapy.

If YOU are thinking about suicide, here's a link for some resources: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

If you are concerned about someone, TALK TO THEM! You aren't going to plant the idea of suicide in their head if you bring it up. Most of us are afraid if we talk about suicidal thoughts we’ll be locked up, let folks know it’s ok to talk about what’s going on.

Here's a link for Warning Signs: https://www.psycom.net/suicide-warning-signs

Suicide Warning Signs

An expert explains what to look for and how to intervene if you suspect someone you love is contemplating suicide

Article by:

• Kathleen Smith, PhD, LPC

Talking about suicide can be a scary subject. But the more people are willing to talk with a friend or family member about suicidal thoughts, the more likely they can help someone take positive steps towards healing.

Many people assume that if you ask someone if they have suicidal thoughts, that you can put the idea into their head. This is a myth, and mental health professionals encourage people to ask important questions and gather facts to help someone who is depressed or feels hopeless. When someone is contemplating suicide, their words and actions can give you clues that they are at risk for hurting themselves.

People can become suicidal when they feel overwhelmed by life’s challenges. They lack hope for the future, and they see suicide as the only solution. It’s sort of a tunnel vision where other options seem useless. Having a family history of suicide or impulsive behavior is also believed to increase risk of suicidality.

Other risk factors can include:

• History of substance abuse
• Access to firearms
• Difficult life events
• Isolation from others
• History of mental illness
• History of physical or sexual abuse
• Having a terminal or chronic illness
• Past suicide attempts

The more signs you see, the higher the risk there is for suicide. Though talking about dying is an obvious sign, there are many others that can indicate risk. There are emotional, verbal, and behavior clues you can observe.

Emotional Markers can include:

• Feeling depressed
• Lack of interest in activities once enjoyed
• Irritability
• Anger
• Anxiety
• Shame or humiliation
• Mood swings

Verbal Markers include talking about:

• Killing themselves
• Their life having no purpose
• Feeling like a burden
• Feeling stuck
• Not wanting to exist

There are two types of suicidal statements or thoughts. An active statement might be something like, “I’m going to kill myself.” A passive statement might include, “I wish I could go to sleep and not wake up,” or, “I wouldn’t mind if I got hit by a bus.” People often ignore passive statements, but they should be taken just as seriously.

Behavioral Markers can include:

• Isolating from others
• Not communicating with friends or family
• Giving away possessions or writing a will
• Driving recklessly
• Increased aggression
• Increased drug and alcohol use
• Searching about suicide on the Internet
• Gathering materials (pills or a weapon)